


(find me) calling your name

by Reign2Rain



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26524201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reign2Rain/pseuds/Reign2Rain
Summary: matsukawa's never really in a rush.when he kisses, it's slow and languid. issei gets a little more hurried when he's mouthing over takahiro's neck, against his jumpy pulse, or pressing the edges of his teeth against the skin underneath takahiro's collarbone. but then on lazy days, all matsukawa's looking for is leaning in and brushing their lips together, wearing that dopey smile that says he might just fall in love tonight.but that's not what takahiro's looking for today, no. he's going to get matsukawa worked up.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Comments: 3
Kudos: 74





	(find me) calling your name

**Author's Note:**

> i was torn between tagging it porn without plot and porn with feelings but this one won out.

it's hard to ever get matsukawa worked up- about anything really.

he's well liked and perpetually unbothered with people's bullshit (okay, maybe except oikawa, but oikawa's a clown), which might be why earning a reaction from him is so rewarding. maybe even intoxicating. and whereas oikawa radiates passion that screams _my dream is to die playing volleyball!_ , matsukawa is calm and collected about all his interests. all of them.

of course, takahiro likes a challenge.

matsukawa's never really in a rush, no matter how much he proves he likes when they do...stuff.

when he kisses, it's slow and languid. _issei_ gets a little more hurried when he's mouthing over takahiro's neck, against his jumpy pulse, or pressing the edges of his teeth against the skin underneath takahiro's collarbone. but every day of the week is your lazy sunday when neither of you care. perfect, so right, for matsukawa to lean in and brush their lips, still wearing that dopey smile that says he might just fall in love tonight. or right, for matsukawa to curl an arm around his boyfriend, perfectly content in leaving it there while they go three rounds in his new favorite mobile battle royal.

right now, he seems satisfied with the two of them just sitting on his bedroom floor, their backs against his bed, shoulders warm against each other. matsukawa's busy tapping away at his phone since takahiro got knocked out of the round.

"you know you hardly ever initiate things. are you ever going to learn to?" takahiro says, trying his best to casual, and not like a semi-desperate volleyball captain he kind of knows. 

matsukawa looks at him with one eye open. "i'm napping right now."

"right now?"

he closes it too. "yes." _son of a bitch._

"okay," takahiro stretches his arms above his head. his back arches as he sighs in bliss. "i think i will too." when he drops his hand back down, it lands in matsukawa's lap. while matsukawa jerks awake, he returns his head to its place on his boyfriend's shoulder, and now he's the one with his eyes closed, relaxed. 

"hey. 'hiro."

"shush. 'm napping."

"are you," matsukawa comments.

takahiro pitches to the side when the support he's been leaning against disappears. "thanks for that," he says, making a point to lie on his back. "boyfriend of the year award goes out to you."

"yay." matsukawa relocates to his bed, lying on his side so he can peer down on takahiro. "my date's might be pissed he lost out though." their phones lie dark-screened, forgotten. it appears their next match is on a raincheck.

takahiro stands. matsukawa watches with hooded eyes. he's a little more attentive now, but he's still got that sleepy air draped over him, the kind he wears all day, in classes, with friends, with family. takahiro's going to strip him of it, and they're both going to enjoy every second.

"ignoring the fact that you just demoted me down to ' _date'_ ," takahiro says, sitting at the edge of the other side of the bed, back to matsukawa. "i'm going to have my hand down someone's pants in thirty seconds. you wanna tell me whose it'll be?"

he hears the bed croak as matsukawa shifts, feels an arm wrap around his waist. "go ahead, 'hiro." matsukawa murmurs, voice low and steady. "i'll take front tickets to the show."

"no backstage pass?" takahiro still won't look at him. heat's starting to curl his stomach anyways. 

"my boyfriend wouldn't like that." _fwump._ matsukawa's slipped his shirt off and tossed it who knows where. _good_. he's not sure when this became a competition but dammit, he's going to _win_.

"oh. i'm sorry that these are the circumstances." he stands up again, detaching the fingers that had been tapping his hip, and makes a mocking bow. "shame though."

matsukawa sits up. "what happened to thirty seconds, getting into my pants?"

takahiro weights his options. it'd be an easier decision if he wasn't stiff in his own jeans; he's not sure he can't trust himself to stay sexually frustrated for long. _aaaaaand too long passed about_ _five minutes ago._

matsukawa raises his brows.

takahiro pursues his lips. his shirt is off by the time he's situated himself in the cove of matsukawa's arms.

"you're so gorgeous," matsukawa murmurs. takahiro's ears burn but matsukawa's already moving down, pressing feathery kisses down the curve of his shoulder, his arm, the inside of his wrist. 

"brownie points get you nothing," he whispers, when he can find his voice. matsukawa opens his mouth to rebuttal and takahiro swallows the words for himself. one kiss, a second, a third. takahiro pulls back, planning on working his pants off, but matsukawa leans forwards, and it turns out, it's to bump noses. takahiro's breath hitches. "oi. did you hear me the first time?"

matsukawa gazes up at him from underneath long eyelashes. "mm?" shit, takahiro's a little jealous to be honest. he's not even sure oikawa's eyelashes are that _long_ and everyone knows they're what he used to make iwaizumi realize his feelings.

"you're being awfully lovey-dovey."

"well, fuck me, yeah?" matsukawa looks too amused for his own good.

takahiro can't help leaning in and in between pecks, he lays down, "yeah-that's-the goal" he thinks he's succeeded in wiping off the smug smirk but-

matsukawa just smiles. 

takahiro averts his gaze. _helplessly happy, way too lovey-dovey_ , just like he'd said. "you're making this very hard for me, mattsun." a second later, he realizes the terrible setup he's freed up and recoils.

surprisingly, he's spared. instead, the blocker he hums, low, even for his tenor.

"issei." _not_ mattsun _, not when it's the two of them._

time slows. his eyes darken. "issei," the name rolls off his tongue. matsukawa's grin returns. "take off your pants."

he obeys. as he unbuttons them, takahiro sidles closer and reaches. his fingers splay across the bulge confined in black. matsukawa's hips jump and takahiro shifts his grip lower, palm pressing at his base.

"you gonna do the same?" matsukawa mumbles. it goes ignored because takahiro's decided he's a better idea in mind. he butts his head into the blocker's chest. matsukawa takes the hint, scooting his ass back and then reclining against the flimsy headboard. his fingers thread into a sea of pink. "you won't bite me if i yank, right?"

takahiro sneers but he can't even pretend to be malicious, when he's knelt in between long legs and taking him out of his underwear. matsukawa's cock is hot and hard, and takahiro's eager to put his mouth on him, tonguing his slit right off the bat, because he wants matsukawa to fall apart as soon as possible. a grunt. to be honest, he's kind of offended. his hand works matsukawa at the base in swift pumps while he swirls his tongue, circling the head a few times. then he turns his head to take matsukawa from the side, brushing rough strokes down the underside.

"fuck, 'hiro."

"dude, you might as well yell, 'sex.'"

a grunt again, higher and breathier. "why...must you sass me?"

this is the most riled he's going to get out of matsukawa, isn't he. fine, issei wants him to stop screwing around, he'll give it to him. takahiro opens his mouth wide and takes matsukawa in, bit by bit, until it's overwhelmingly hard to breathe. all he can smell is matsukawa's musk and do his best to relax his jaw muscles.

a strangled gasp.

he bobs up and down.

matsukawa doesn't yank like his half-assed attempt at teasing, but his hand tenses in the midst of his hair, blunt nails scratching into his scalp and palm pressing into his brow ridge. he's getting spit all over the place, all over his lips, his chin, and dripping off matsukawa's cock and onto the blankets below. matsukawa swears. his leg jerks but he manages to kick a spot that's air and decidedly not his boyfriend. the pressure against takahiro's head disappears; matsukawa's traded it for fisting the sheets.

still trapped within his jeans, takahiro ruts his hips and takes heavy drags of his own hard dick against fabric and mattress together as he moves his mouth along matsukawa's.

and then matsukawa's hissing, "' _hiro, 'hiro, 'hiro."_ and he's moved to wait at matsukawa's tip. there's a spurt; he sucks with a sense of renewal, trying to help things along, has matsukawa shaking, trembling, in his mouth. the stuff slides down his throat and he passes the bit that had gotten into his nose from finger to tongue and then it's gone.

"you...you're..." matsukawa croaks.

takahiro gives him a full-blown grin, pleased with the both of them. (he's brought _matsukawa fucking issei_ , mr.smartass speechless). "would you," he gestures to himself. "give me a hand."

"my pleasure," is mumbled, and then takahiro is coming in a series of strokes, encouragement in his ear and open-mouthed kisses laid along his neck. _issei, issei, issei._ his groans pitch higher and higher until he's high. free-falling. he buries his face in the crook of matsukawa's neck and shoulder and pants against damp, warm skin and rests with darkness cushioning his closed eyes.

gradually, he registers matsukawa is saying something about clean up, the heat of his figure moving away and returning with tissues. he's gentle, so gentle, wiping them both down. his chest, takahiro's face, the reverse.

"so. pleasure doing business with you."

"fuck you," takahiro chokes, too tired to stop himself from giving up a little laugh. "is this the thanks i get?"

matsukawa grins, soft, happy, his left cheek dimpling and- _ah shit._ looks like it's takahiro who's going to be falling in love tonight. his lips quirk up. matsukawa's grin brightens and he dips forwards, planting his affection over takahiro's nose, his forehead.

"what, you want my boyfriend award?" the blocker wrinkles his nose. he's six feet, seventeen, and this boy _sit-bounces_ on his own bed in front of his boyfriend.

takahiro laughs and laughs and laughs himself _silly_ , even as he relocates, tucking himself under heavy covers that encourage the lag in his muscles. matsukawa joins him, warm, steady, solid. comfort. it's hard not to fall asleep to the idea of maybe love.

**Author's Note:**

> yeahhhh still writing and pretending school isn't happening aaaah existential crisis yes sir, please, hand me an extra large.  
> (haven't written smut in ages and it was poorly written, hence the m rating) but yeah then it got cheesy as hell fuck 
> 
> let me know what you thought please!! :) matsuhana ftw


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